


Cake or Death

by Kitsune_Sam



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Love Confessions, M/M, SpiritAssassin Week 2017, baking and fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-25 01:32:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10753968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitsune_Sam/pseuds/Kitsune_Sam
Summary: It's 2am. Finals are fast approaching. And Baze's brain won't shut off. Solution? Stress baking.





	Cake or Death

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this really quickly (I completely forgot it was spiritassassin week ooops) so if it seems a bit rushed you know why :)) Also, thank you Paul Hollywood for the cookie related innuendo from GBBO, Chirrut would approve.

Baze’s brain felt like it was it was turning to mush. He lay there staring at the, questionably stained, ceiling of his and Chirrut’s dorm room. Finals. The bane of all students lives around the world. Baze was sure the only reason they were forced to go through this hell was to provide some sort of sick pleasure to all the faculty members of the university. It was one of the world’s most orchestrated forms of torture. Hidden behind a veil of ‘this degree will help you in later life so your hard work will pay off’. Baze, at this point, was not entirely sure how the slow but steady liquidating of his brain would help him at all in later life. 

The recent cramming sessions had been…well. Baze didn’t know if they had been more of a help or a hindrance. Granted the sessions had worked, in that he had retained the knowledge that he had been forcing into his brain, but when he tried to focus on a particular subject all the information was stuck in some jumbled up mess. Much like putting food in a blender a pressing the on switch, sure it would all fit in there but good luck trying to differentiate between what food was what when it was done. 

Baze rubbed his hands over his face with a sigh. It was nearing 2am and his head was filled with a constant buzz. He needed his brain to just…switch off. Just for a few hours. The random snippets of facts and figures that kept floating through his mind were driving him insane.

Nodding to himself, he flung back the covers of his bed and got to his feet. He glanced at his shirt that was on the floor for a second before deciding against pulling it on. It was really warm that night, and besides, even if anyone was awake Baze didn’t particularly care they disapproved of his lack of clothes. 

Careful not to wake Chirrut, who was sleeping in the other bed, half hanging off the edge as he snored lightly, Baze made his way over to the door and left the room. He walked down the corridor to the large communal kitchen that everyone on their floor shared. He didn’t turn on the main light; the florescent light too bright for this time of night and for his overwhelmed brain. Instead he flicked on the LED lights that were strung all around the bottom of the cupboards above the counter, bathing the kitchen in a softer glow.

He padded barefoot across the tiled floor and opened the cupboard he had appropriated for himself at the beginning of the year, pulling out bowls and ingredients. Apparently nobody wanted to argue with the six foot tall guy, who was twice as broad as anyone else in their dorm and had a resting face that screamed ‘don’t bother me if you know what’s good for you’. Or at least that was Chirrut had told him. Baze hadn’t thought it worth the effort to correct them. Chirut had proceeded to whine about being deceptively small and how unfair it was that no one thought he was intimidating just because he was only five foot eight. Baze found himself inclined to agree. He had trained with Chirrut over the course of the year, sparring with him in their free time and Baze knew all too well how strong Chirrut was. He had found himself pinned beneath Chirrut on multiple occasions, his wrists held in an impossibly tight grip, trying desperately not to show how much the feeling of his friend’s strong thighs straddling his waist affected him. That was a whole other different kind of torture; a one that Baze found himself addicted to against his better judgment.

He shook his head and pulled out his butter and eggs from the fridge, placing the next to the flour on the counter top. He wasn’t even sure what he was making, but he knew most of his favourite recipes by heart. He made a vague decision of cookies to start with and set about measuring out ingredients, adding them to a mixing bowl.

Aware of the late hour, he grabbed a wooden spoon from the drawer and set about mixing by hand, not wanting to wake the rooms nearby with the electric mixer. He separated the cookie dough into balls, placing them onto a baking tray and put them into the oven. He set a quiet alarm on his phone to go off when they were done and started measuring out the ingredients for his next recipe. 

He found himself falling into the rhythm of baking, his mind going blissfully quiet for the first time in weeks. He quickly silenced the alarm when it went off, putting down his mixing bowl to pull the baked cookies from the oven. The delicious smell of the cookies washed over him in a comforting wave when he pulled the oven door open. He set them off to the side to cool, adding the next tray from that batch before turning back to the dough he was currently mixing. He threw in some chocolate chips and carried on mixing.

He moved on from cookies to apple turnovers, pulling the pack of pre-made pastry from the fridge and gabbing some apples. He sliced them with deft efficiency, scooping them into a saucepan and adding the butter, cinnamon, sugar and cornstarch. He turned up the heat on the stove and stirred until the filling was ready. He then set about preparing the pastry, adding the filling once it had cooled a bit and put them in the oven after taking out the last batch of chocolate chip cookies.

He measured out some flour, sugar and chocolate powder, deciding he was going to make some chocolate cupcakes next. He was mixing the dry ingredients together when he heard a voice.

“Baze?”

Baze startled and looked up. Chirrut was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, shirtless with his sleep pants hanging dangerously low on his hips, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Oh gods he’s hot, Baze thought, unable to tear his eyes away from the muscles of Chirrut’s abdomen. Baze tried to swallow but his mouth had gone drier than the flour in his mixing bowl. 

“What are you doing?” 

Baze froze. He had a moment of internal panic until he realised that Chirrut was gesturing towards the trays of baked goods, not the fact that Baze was standing there, half mesmerised by the sight of his friend’s half naked body in the low light of the kitchen. Baze coughed and dropped his gaze to the bowl in his hands.

“Baking?” he said, the word coming out as more of a question because of his sudden nervousness. 

“Why?” Chirrut asked with a confused frown.

Baze shrugged his shoulders, “Stress.”

Chirrut stared at Baze, saying nothing. Baze tried not to shift under his gaze. Chirut opened his mouth, Baze tensing up, worried he had in fact been caught staring after all, but Chirrut merely snapped his mouth shut again and shrugged. 

“It’s a better habit to have than drinking or drugs I suppose,” he said thoughtfully.

He strode into the kitchen, coming over to where Baze was standing near the tray of chocolate chip cookies that were fresh from the oven. He went to grab one.

“Don’t!” Baze said making Chirrut freeze, his hand hovering over the sweet treats. “They’re too hot,” he explained.

Chirrut pouted, pulling his hand back with a huff. He glanced sideways at Baze and laughed.

“Do you know you’re covered in flour?” he asked.

Baze blinked and looked down at himself. Well, Chirrut wasn’t wrong. He had flour all over his hands and up his forearms, and a fair amount spattered across his chest too. 

“Do you always bake half naked?” Chirrut asked with a raised eyebrow.

Baze rolled his eyes. “No. But it was warm tonight…and I didn’t realise anyone else would be up. The ones in the boxes are good to eat,” he said nodding towards them.

Chirrut just shrugged, clearly unbothered by Baze’s own lack of clothes, and snatched up one of the cookies from the first batch that Baze had placed in a Tupperware box. He examined the cookie and nodded to the bowl in Baze’s hands.

“What’re you making?”

Reminded that, yes, he still had to finish this recipe, Baze started mixing again while he answered. 

“I’m currently making chocolate-“

Baze’s words were cut off by Chirrut making the most indecent sound Baze had ever heard. He looked up to see Chirrut with a half-eaten cookie in one hand and a look of pure pleasure across his face as he continued to groan. Baze felt his cheeks light on fire, his brain supplying him with a deluge of mental images of all the other ways in which he could drag those noises from Chirrut. 

“Mmmm. Oh my gods. How have I never had these before?” Chirrut said before stuffing the rest of the cookie in his mouth with a pleasured moan.

Baze felt his arousal spike at the sound and quickly tried to distract himself by grabbing some eggs and breaking them into the bowl.

“Umm, im making chocolate cupcakes,” he said, his voice a little strained as he worked. Chirrut hummed interestedly, watching as Baze started to whisk the cake batter together.

“Ahhhh. So this is the secret to your muscly arms. Baking!” Chirrut exclaimed dramatically. 

Baze snorted, “Yep. These are bakers’ arms.”

“Well, I will add baking to my workout regime. It looks like hard work and I suppose you only get out what you pudding.”

Baze paused. He looked suspiciously at Chirrut, unsure if he had misheard the man, but he was just standing there with a small smile on his face. Baze nodded in agreement, giving Chirrut the benefit of the doubt, and moved over to his cupboard to grab some paper cupcake cases. Chirrut carried on talking while Baze started spooning cake batter into the cases he had placed in the muffin tray.

“I suppose I don’t do a lot of baking so I have mushroom for improvement.”

Baze froze, the spoon full of cake batter steadily dripping onto the countertop as he squinted at Chirrut who had a look of pure innocence on his face.

“Now that was definitely a pun. A bad one,” Baze said accusingly, moving the spoon over to empty it into the waiting case.

Chirrut gasped in mock offense, placing a hand on his chest. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said, then smiled slyly. “But! A good baker will rise above it. It’s the yeast he can do!”

Baze just groaned as he carried on spooning out the rest of the batter.

“Life is hard my friend, you can’t be afraid to take whisks!”

Baze could hear the smile in Chirrut’s voice without having to look at him.

“Please stop,” he said.

There was a pause.

Then, “All’s fair in loaf and war.”

Baze pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand and threw some flour at Chirrut’s chest with the other.

“Hey! Rude,” Chirrut said, sticking his tongue out at Baze. He reached over and grabbed another cookie from the box, snapping it in half and taking a bite. He hummed. “You know I like a cookie with a good snap to it. You want something quite rigid, but something that will taste good too,” he said, winking at Baze.

Baze spluttered, feeling his cheeks heating up again and the innuendo. 

“You are incorrigible,” he choked out.

Chirrut just started cackling at his own joke. The alarm on his phone went off so Baze pushed gently past Chirrut to remove the apple turnovers from the oven and to put in the cupcakes. He stood up and looked at Chirrut who was wiping tears away from his eyes. There were times when he couldn’t believe just how much he liked this man. Chirrut took a deep, steadying breath, then looked over at Baze.

He smirked and stalked over to Baze, who felt his heart rate spike at the look on Chirrut’s face.

“You have flour on your nose,” he said, reaching up with one hand to brush it from Baze’s face.

Baze felt like he had forgotten how to breathe. Chirrut was standing close enough that Baze could feel the heat radiating of his bare chest. Chirrut’s gaze was intense as he made sure he got all the flour off Baze’s nose, his breath hot against Baze’s chin. Baze was certain that the other man could hear his heart pounding in his chest. Just when Baze thought he might pass out from the lack of oxygen to his brain he felt Chirrut’s other hand slap against his chest.

The man danced back out of Baze’s space, laughing. Baze, finally remembering how his lungs worked, took a breath and looked down at his chest. There was a clear imprint of Chirrut’s hand in flour over his left pectoral. He rolled his eyes.

When he looked up at Chirrut he was licking cake batter from the whisk.

“You know that has raw eggs in right?”

Chirrut shrugged, “So? People drink raw eggs for breakfast all the time.”

Baze nodded his head and moved over to the bowl.

“Some people get weird about stuff with raw eggs in,” he said, dragging his finger around the side of the bowl to scoop up some of the batter. He sucked his finger into his mouth, glancing over to Chirrut. The other man was stood frozen, whisk held midway to his mouth as he stared intently at Baze. Or more precisely, Baze thought, at the finger he was sucking on. He pulled the digit slowly from his mouth and licked the remaining batter off leisurely, Chirrut’s pupils widening as his eyes followed movement of Baze’s tongue. After a moment his gaze flicked up to meet Baze’s.

The tension in the room was palpable. Baze felt like he had been sucked into a vacuum where the only things that existed were himself and Chirrut. His entire world had narrowed down to the almost predatory look in Chirrut’s eyes. He kept eye contact as he dipped his finger back into the bowl, slowly raising it back up to lick at the chocolate mixture while he looked directly into Chirrut’s eyes. His heart felt like it was trying to break free from his ribcage. He had never done something so bold, something that screamed so clearly to the world how much he wanted Chirrut. Chirrut pulled in a ragged breath, his mouth falling open slightly. Baze had never had someone look at him with such want, such hunger in his life, his whole body practically thrumming in response. 

After what felt like a lifetime he looked down, unable to hold the eye contact anymore. He turned to place the bowl back onto the counter. There was a clattering sound from where Chirrut stood. Baze didn’t even get a chance to react before he was being pulled down into a heated kiss, Chirrut’s hands framing his face.

There was a split second where Baze didn’t react; couldn’t react. Chirrut was kissing him. For months he had wanted nothing more than to kiss his friend, to know what his mouth tasted like, to know the feeling of their bodies pressed close together. And now…

Baze surged forwards, wrapping his arms around Chirrut’s waist to pull him flush against him, forcing the other man up onto his tiptoes as he kissed him back with equal fervour. Chirrut gasped, Baze using the opportunity to slide his tongue past Chirrut’s parted lips, tasting his mouth. He tastes like chocolate cake batter, Baze thought absently. Chirrut made a little keening noise in the back of his throat, moving his hands from Baze’s face to wrap his arms around his neck instead, threading the fingers of one hand into Baze’s hair.

Baze started to walk Chirrut backwards while he ravaged his mouth, the other man almost tripping as he moved, stretched up on his toes as he was. Baze reached down, hooking his hands behind Chirrut’s legs and hefting him up. Chirrut wrapped his legs securely around Baze’s waist, pulling back from the kiss slightly to bite none too gently at Baze’s bottom lip. Baze practically growled into Chirrut’s mouth when he pulled on his hair, tilting his head back to expose his neck.

"Baze."

Baze made an indistinguishable sound, something between a grunt and a sigh, as Chirrut latched on to his neck, sucking and biting at the spot just below his ear. Baze had wondered how Chirrut kissed; how their first kiss would go if he was ever lucky enough to experience such a thing. Would the kiss soft and gentle, almost fumbling in their hesitant exploration of each other? Or would the kiss be rough, and wild, and passionate like the man himself? And gods help him, in this moment, Baze was beyond glad that it was the latter.

He carried Chirrut the last few steps over to the countertop, setting him down. He pulled Chirrut back from where he was still biting enthusiastically at his neck and forced the other man to look at him. His face was flushed, lips red and swollen from their harsh kiss. Baze cupped Chirrut’s face in his hand, rubbing his thumb along his bottom lip. He leant in to kiss him again, sucking the soft flesh of his lip into his mouth before biting down just as Chirrut had done to him; repaying him in kind. Chirrut’s back arched in response, pressing their bare chests together. Baze was vaguely aware of Chirrut’s fingers tangling into his hair again as he ran his tongue over the abused flesh of Chirrut’s lip, a small attempt to sooth the hurt. 

Chirrut slid his tongue into Baze’s mouth, the kiss hot and wet, drowning Baze with his passion. Baze had no idea how long they kissed for. Time lost all meaning while he was wrapped in Chirrut’s arms, the sole focus of his attention. They broke apart eventually, resting their foreheads together with their eyes closed while they tried to catch their breath.

“Fuck,” Chirrut huffed softly against Baze’s mouth.

Baze felt too dazed to respond so he merely nodded in agreement, eyes still closed as he basked in the rush of emotions coursing through him. He felt heady, like when you’ve been drinking alcohol and stand up for the first time, feeling disorientated and needing a moment to adjust lest you fall flat on your face. 

“How has it taken us so long to do this?” Chirrut asked quietly.

Baze finally opened his eyes and looked at the man who still had his legs wrapped around his waist.

“I…I didn’t think you…”

Chirrut blinked. “Are you kidding me? Baze, I’ve been hinting at you for months.”

It was Baze’s turn to blink. “What?”

Chirrut looked at him like he had grown another head. “Baze, how many times have I stripped off in front of you? How many times have I sat way closer to you than necessity called for? You never responded or you just looked away so I assumed you just weren’t interested in me that way.”

Baze frowned. “I…you’ve always been a tactile person, from the moment I met you. And you’ve never exactly been shy about your body. I didn’t realise anything was different. I felt like I was taking advantage of you by looking…so I didn’t,” he said with a shrug.

Chirrut opened his mouth then closed it again, thought for a second, then said, “What I’m hearing is that we’re both hopeless.”

Baze laughed. “So you…I mean, we’re…” he stumbled over the words, unsure of exactly what to say in this situation.

Chirrut placed a hand on Baze’s cheek and looked him dead in the eye. 

“I like you. A lot. And I don’t think I could stand going back to being only friends now that I know what it’s like to kiss you.”

Baze pressed a chaste kiss to Chirrut’s lips.

“Me neither.”

Chirrut kissed him again, languidly moving their lips together while he ran his fingers gently up and down Baze’s arm. They broke apart and just held each other close.

“Baze,” Chirrut said after a while.

“Hmm?”

“You bake me crazy.”

Baze shoved a cookie in Chirrut’s mouth.


End file.
